When Cas reached the manor, his legs were sore from running. The lights were still off and the driveway clear. Overwhelmed with relief, he started making his way upstairs, when the torn manuscripts caught his memory. 

Cas collected the scraps in the music room. Though he did so with care, his heart was no longer heavy. His mind was in a wander, almost reeling from the music and performance all over again. It was all like a dream, an impossible one, that he knew to have no regrets. 

In the solitude of his room, Cas began to tape together the pieces. The task would be an arduous one, but his thoughts only drifted, the golden light bearing upon them. It was as if no one was watching, and he’d forgotten Silas and Johan were in the audience. 

Not long after he began to work, the front door slammed shut, and voices filled the hallway. 

‘Where the hell is he?’ 

‘Likely in his room. Looks like the floor has been cleared.’ 

‘I heard it. It was clearly the same piece.’ 

‘Johan, what happened to that rationality of yours? Shubert is no secret. And besides, that traitor won't lay his filthy hands on our piano again.’ 

‘Casimir,’ Silas demanded. ‘Come here.’ 

Cas went to the hallway as quickly as he could. With every step his breathing became a little more shallow, wondering what the man would say or do. There was no way for them to have discovered that he’d attended the competition tonight, but nevertheless, Cas tried to compose his expression.  

Johan was looking directly at him, the suspicion betraying his eyes seeming to pierce Cas’ own. 

‘There should be extra slices of steak. Prepare those for three.’ Silas’ demeanour had not changed. It was as if the moment in the music room never happened. But after all these long years, Cas knew Silas’ heart was not a forgiving one.

Cas gave a nod, before escaping into the kitchen. 

As he prepared the food, he smiled softly. His hands and heart felt impossibly light, as if he were gently floating. Before he knew it, a strong, bitter scent clouded the air and caught his nose. 

Cas immediately coughed and waved away the smoke. The steaks were reduced to blackened, greasy pulp. 

Panic came in forms of waves, pulsing behind his eyes, consuming his thoughts. He did not want to remember how much it cost a piece. 

Before he could think of what to do, Silas burst in. His expression at the sight promised punishment, and it was the closest indication of rage he had ever let show. Cas stiffened, but Silas did not raise his arm. 

‘You are to go without dinner for five days. Considering what you have done, this is a mercy. Am I understood?’  

A pause. 

‘Yes, sir.’ Miracles came in the form of Silas’ words, in the trickle of relief within his muscles. Cas knew it was meant to be far worse than this, but there was no overlooking the pride in Silas’ exchanges with Alexander in the entrance hall. 

In his room, Cas continued to piece the manuscripts together, and as he did so, the memory of the performance came to him again. His hands remembered how they leapt over the shiny keys, notes lingering under skin. It was beguiling as it was entrancing, holding him with tender hands. It did little to dissipate the painful knot in his stomach, but it was enough.